Physically dominate her!

A rare sadistic glint suddenly glimmers in your eyes as you elect to physically dissect her even more before finally making her submit to you, one way or another.

Seizing her by the hair, you bring her back up to her feet and wrap your forearms around her sides.

Interlacing your fingers together, you tuck your head underneath her near arm before lifting her naked form up in the air and then…

Slam! The ring nearly shakes with the impact as you drive her spinefirst into the canvas, delivering a swift uranage slam.

A loud wince escapes her lips, sounding more hoarse than ever thanks to the sudden fall expelling whatever air she had left in her gut.

She was down, but not yet out.

For now.

“C’mon!” Bringing her up yet again, you take her by the wrist and swiftly Irish whip her into the opposite corner.

Not wasting a moment of hesitation, you bound after her not leaving a window of opportunity for her to capitalize in.

Just as she hits the turnbuckle, you absolutely explode into her with a corner bodysplash, one so powerful that it nearly takes the black woman off her feet.

Stepping back, you grab her by the wrist yet again and yank her forward one more time into a-

“Hah!” You nearly take Kayla’s head off with a brutal clothesline, falling forward with the momentum as she flails down limply to the canvas.

“Move by move, the rookie is gradually wearing down his opponent. Kayla’s certainly going through the ringer now, but don’t count the ‘Mistress of Submission’ out just yet,” the ring announcer informs the audience.

With the previously smug and self-confident black woman still writhing on the mat, you pull yourself up despite the fatigue eating away at your joints second by second.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired, Kayla,” you taunt her after catching your breath, sauntering around her groaning form. “I thought you ate punks like me for breakfast.”

Wincing heavily, she found the strength to mock you back weakly, “You still hit like a wuss.”

Stopping next to her, you crack your knuckles eagerly and went right back to work.

Bending down to seize a handful of her raven locks, you drag her towards the ropes and then bring her up to full standing.

Stepping aside as her naked breasts continue to bounce up and down erotically, you let your eyes wander up and down her caramel-colored skin for just a moment longer, before bringing your right hand up in the dreaded backhand position, and then…

“No, you better not you piece of-Ow!” Kayla howls in pain as you deliver a scathing knife edge chop right across her right tit.

“Oh yes he did,” the ring announcer chuckles in response to her verbal anguish.

Her face contorted in silent agony, she tries to shield her chest for the next strike but it does her little good.

Wooooo! As your straightened hand slices against her womanly flesh, leaving a blistering reminder where it impacted, Kayla nearly collapses to the canvas yet again.

Holding her drooping chin up with one hand, you rear back and deliver a third knife edge chop that finally forces the black woman to cry out in pain.

Measuring her up one last time, you finally deliver one final chop that only adds to the various hand-sized blister marks now adorning her modest rack.

“That any better?” you tease her, crossing your arms confidently as she merely glowers up at you resentfully.

Sensing her guard now sufficiently lowered, you take a chance and administer a demeaning slap right to her grimacing expression, causing the crowd to nearly go insane at your brazenness.

Too weakened to formally reply, her raven locks obscure her undoubtedly seething expression.

Looking back over your shoulder, you decide to take another chance and Irish whip her into the opposite end of the ring.

Rebounding off the ropes, Kayla runs right into….